battuta of this Andante was swung over our heads; even the
feathers on the angel's wings were turned into corkscrew curls--
rigid, like those of the seven year's war. Already, I felt myself
placed under the staff of a Prussian recruiting officer, A.D.
1740, and longed to be bought off--but! who can guess my terror,
when the veteran turned back the pages, and recommenced his
Largo--Andante, merely to do "classical" justice to the two
little dots before the double bar in the score! I looked about me
for help and succour--and beheld another wondrous thing: the
audience listened patiently: quite convinced that everything was
in the best possible order, and that they were having a true
Mozartian "feast for the ears" in all innocence and safety.--This
being so, I acquiesced, and bowed my head in silence.

Once, however, a little later on, my patience failed. At a
rehearsal of "Tannhauser" I had quietly allowed a good deal to
pass by unnoticed--even the clerical tempo at which my knights
had to march up in the second act. But now it became evident that
the undoubtedly "veteran" master could not even make out how 4/4
time was to be changed to an equivalent 6/4: i.e., two crotchets

[Figure: two crotchets (quarter notes)]

into a triplet of three crotchets

[Figure: a triplet of three crotchets (quarter notes)]

The trouble arose during Tannhauser's narrative of his pilgrimage
(Act III.), when 4/4